


and when the angels come

by clavicular



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Dark, Dysfunctional Family, F/F, Fairy Tales, Future Fic, Power Play, Resurrection, Spanking, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-09
Updated: 2013-03-09
Packaged: 2017-12-04 18:08:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/713548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clavicular/pseuds/clavicular
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story goes that they come back different.  On the better days, Allison can convince herself that it’s true.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and when the angels come

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vociferocity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vociferocity/gifts), [lastwingedthing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lastwingedthing/gifts).



> Written for a prompt by vociferocity (Kate/Allison, spanking). Thanks go to vociferocity and lastwingedthing for the support and lastwingedthing for the beta. 
> 
> Title from 'When Water Comes to Life' by Cloud Cult.

The story goes that they come back different: stranger, darker, more dangerous. Age-old fairy tales tell of sharper teeth, gleaming eyes and a taste for blood in the air. It’s not the mindless brutality of shape-shifters, but something more twisted. They come back calculating and clever, with vengeance in their hearts and skin that’s cold to touch. So the story goes.

 On the better days, Allison can convince herself that it’s true.

 

*

 

The barrel of a gun presses into Allison’s spine and she freezes, grip tightening on her crossbow. Her pulse races but it’s not too late, she thinks. She might still get the upper hand if she’s quick. If she’s careful. Moonlight filters in through the windows of the abandoned house and she shifts in place, floorboards creaking beneath her feet. Behind her, someone laughs, familiar in a way that makes Allison ache.

“You don’t think I’ll shoot?” Kate asks, voice teasing. “If you trust me that much, I have to wonder why we’re still on opposite sides.”

She reaches forward and wraps her hand around Allison’s crossbow, arm brushing against Allison’s shoulder. Allison shivers.

“I don’t know what you’ll do,” Allison says. “And I _don’t_ trust you.”

She thrusts her elbow back into Kate’s ribs and spins around. Both weapons go flying, but neither of them waste precious seconds scrambling for them. Kate makes an effort to immobilise her, but Allison is faster. Her fist collides with Kate’s face, sending Kate reeling. It lets Allison get a hand around her neck. Allison’s put guys twice her size on the ground this way, but fighting someone who knows what they’re doing is a little different – Kate catches her wrist and twists it sharply, and Allison releases her with a cry. At the same time, Kate catches Allison in the stomach with her knee. Allison nearly doubles over, but the pain is dull compared to the need to strike back.

It’s a bit like wrestling the way they used to when Allison was younger – games she now recognises for the lessons they were. But Allison doesn’t want to think about it like that. She doesn’t want to think of Kate as the person who bought her first compound bow and taught her to shoot or the person she would cry down the phone to when she was lonely and moving for the third time in a year. Allison wants this to be fast and ruthless enough that she can forget about that. She hits out with everything she can. She wants to hurt Kate and she doesn’t care how much she gets hurt in return.

And suddenly she’s got Kate bent over the arm of a deteriorating couch, a hand on the back of Kate’s neck pushing her face into the cushions. Kate struggles half-heartedly and makes a muffled sound that might almost be a laugh. One of Kate’s arms is behind her back, trapped between them. Her other arm is free though, and Kate is the stronger of them. She could push Allison off, if she wanted to. Allison hates that she doesn’t.

Kate makes another sound, this time more annoyed, and Allison loosens her grip enough for her to turn her head to breathe properly. She’s half hoping the concession will encourage Kate to fight back, but it doesn’t. The only resistance she puts up is an attempt to shake off the hair falling over her face. She looks almost vulnerable like this – almost human. Allison brushes the hair aside. It’s soft under her fingers, and Kate’s cheek is warm.

“That was fun,” Kate says.

She’s wearing that grin that never really seems to leave her. Allison’s learning to believe it promises death and destruction, and not love like she used to think. Her lip is split, Allison notices. It must be hurting her. She looks at her own grazed knuckles, at the hand still holding Kate down.   

“I was right about you,” Kate says, with blood on her smile. “Natural talent.” 

 

*

 

The story goes that they come back different. It’s a warning, a ghost story, something to scare children. The people who tell it don’t understand, though. They can’t imagine something more frightening than coming back changed.

 

*

 

“So what now?” Kate asks. “You’re obviously not going to kill me.”

She catches Allison’s eye, and she’s still wearing that awful, familiar grin.

“Unless your compassion only extends to bloodthirsty monsters.”

Allison tenses and her nails dig into Kate’s skin. She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t have to.

“Oh sweetie, I’m not a monster,” Kate says. “I’m just less shy than most about putting them down.”

Allison feels the shoulder of her trapped arm working, like she’s trying to free it. Allison makes no move to stop her. Kate narrows her eyes and it’s not exactly anger, but Allison’s not sure what it _is._

“Oh, but that’s right. You’re not too shy yourself, I hear. Maybe you think you’re not like that, that you hate the things I’ve done. But I’m not the only one who knows what it’s like to pull the trigger.” She smirks. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

Allison’s not fully aware of deciding to move. All she knows is her fingers are sliding up Kate’s neck, tangling in her hair, digging into her scalp. Kate hisses as Allison seizes her by the hair but she hasn’t stopped smirking, hasn’t looked away, and Allison suddenly feels like she couldn’t possibly take this too far.

 _I never killed anyone,_ she wants to say, but she can’t get it out. She knows what Kate will say. It’s exactly what she’s trying to forget. _Sure, but you wanted to._

_Sure, but you tried._

Kate watches her like she knows everything that’s going through Allison’s mind, like she knows all of Allison’s fears and weaknesses. The look on her face is as intimate as a knife through the ribcage.

“Don’t you just hate family?” Kate murmurs.

Allison slaps her. She gets her right across the face, glancing off her cheeks, and the sound echoes in her ears. Her hand comes away stinging. She waits for a surge of vicious satisfaction, but all she’s left with is a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. Kate actually looks shocked for a moment though. Anything is worth that. 

It’s just a moment, of course.

“Kinky,” Kate laughs, arching an eyebrow. “If you’re trying to prove a point, maybe you should kiss me next.”

“ _Shut up_ ,” Allison yells.

Kate snorts and shifts again; this time, with intent. Her ass rubs up and down Allison’s thighs.

“Make me,” she says, breathy and low. Her lips part invitingly, and Allison realises just how many places their bodies are pressed together.

Horrified, she shoves at Kate and lets her go, stumbling backwards. Her skin feels like it’s burning everywhere they’d touched.

She expects Kate to lunge for her gun but Kate just lies there. She even leaves her arm folded up behind her back. Allison hesitates.

“You’re the one trying to convince yourself we’re not family, that there’s nothing left between us,” Kate says. There’s a mocking edge to her voice. Allison’s heard it before, but she never thought it would be directed at her. Not like this.

“Maybe I just can’t bear to touch you,” she says. She means it to be cold but she’s too furious, too hurt, and her voice breaks on the last word. There’s a beat of silence.

“Piece of advice, sweetie? You go around saying things like that, people might start thinking you care.”

And Allison forgets – forgets that she shouldn’t do this, that she doesn’t want to touch Kate, that she’ll only be proving Kate right. She steps forward, grabs the wrist that’s still behind Kate’s back to brace herself, and slaps Kate again. This time on her ass.

The blow is muted by Kate’s jeans. That’s so infuriating Allison doesn’t even think about it, she just reaches for the fly.  Kate lifts her hips up to give Allison better access, and folds both arms under her head. Allison hates that Kate’s helping her and she _hates_ that she’s so casual about it, so she digs her fingernails in as she pulls the jeans over Kate’s hips. That doesn’t even get a reaction but when Allison runs her hand back up Kate’s leg she can feel welts. She hits Kate again and _there’s_ that vicious satisfaction she was looking for, the rush of power that’s almost like what she really needs.  Kate lets out a gasp that’s genuinely surprised, and god, Allison wants to hear that noise again and again. Her next strike is even harder, pain flaring in her palm and leaving Kate’s skin flushed. Kate’s ready for it, though.

“ _Allison,_ ” she moans, and rocks back into the touch.

It’s so deliberate. Allison can read the calculations in her tiny gasps and the way she trembles, and that hurts more than Allison can admit. She wants to make Kate lose that control, can’t think past the desire to take her apart. She hits her three times in quick succession, trying to break through the restraint in Kate’s voice, and when that doesn’t work she shoves at her and steps back again. Kate jerks at the sudden loss, but it’s not wholly involuntary - not if the way she draws out that groan of protest is anything to go by.

Allison circles the couch, eyes fixed on Kate. Her legs feel a bit like they might give out under her but Kate’s watching with a hand propping up her chin and there’s no way Allison isn’t seeing this through.

“Get up,” she says.

Kate doesn’t move. Kate doesn’t move and Allison is losing patience. She drags Kate off the couch by the collar of her shirt, watching impassively as she hits the ground. Kate lands on all fours, jeans sliding down her thighs, and when she looks up at Allison there’s real and naked anger there. Allison doesn’t have to fake her answering smirk. She turns slowly and sinks down onto the couch.

“Get. Up.”

She cups Kate’s chin in her hand. Kate looks like she wants to wrench out of Allison’s grasp, but she grits her teeth and leans into it instead. She looks up at Allison through her lashes and smiles. It’s the kind of smile she must have worked to perfect, pretty and obedient and totally insincere. Allison digs her nails into Kate’s cheek.

“I’ve already repeated myself once,” she says.

Kate holds Allison’s gaze. She moves unhurriedly with a knowing smile twisting her lips, and Allison catches her wrist as she straightens up.

“No,” she says.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she’s aware of what she’s doing. She’s thinking about it. This is not a frantic, necessary fight for survival; it’s not instinct and adrenaline. She’s going to have to live with herself and whatever she does here, and she’s going to have to do it knowing she could have stopped.

But Kate is in front of her, impossibly real, and her eyes are wide with mock concern. She looks at Allison like there’s a once-innocent question hovering on the edge of her lips: _What is it, sweetie? What do you_ want _?_

And Allison throws up the walls she’s learned to build so carefully and smiles at Kate with barbed wire in her eyes. She can taste blood in the air.

“Across my lap.”

Kate raises her eyebrows, but she understands. She doesn’t hesitate.

“It’s like you’ve given this some thought,” she says, hips rubbing against Allison’s legs as she gets comfortable.

“Did I say you could talk?” Allison snaps. There’s no way that’s not intentional.

Kate laughs.

“You’ll have to do better than that if you want me to stop.” She twists around to look at Allison, and Allison sees the echo of her earlier words in it, “ _make me”_ , somewhere between an invitation and a challenge. Allison knows what Kate wants, what she’s asking for, and it turns her stomach. It’s almost enough to shake her out of the space where she can do this, and maybe Kate sees that because the smile disappears from her face. 

“This goes exactly as far as you want it to, Allison,” she says softly.

Allison flinches. She doesn’t want to hear that. She can’t stand that Kate is making her hear that. She claps her hand over Kate’s mouth and hopes the grip is tight enough to hurt. Kate accepts it though; Allison feels her jaw go slack, lips parting just a little.

Allison brings her hand down on Kate’s ass. The thrill that sends through her is exactly why she needs this, and why it repulses her. It’s violent, but it’s a precise violence, the sort that you have to really mean. Allison hits her again, and god, she means it. She wants to make Kate hurt in every way she can, and she wants to cut the ties between them, wholly and utterly, until she can finally look at Kate and feel nothing. She brings her hand down again and again.

Kate lets her – no, more than that. She whimpers and moans and tosses her hair, makes a show of it, ruts against Allison’s leg like she can’t get enough. She’s forcing Allison to face what she’s doing. It’s a challenge, it’s all a challenge, and Allison hates it and she can’t stop. Her hand slips away from Kate’s mouth and she rests it across Kate’s shoulders, holding on like it will steady her. As if anything at all could steady her. Kate just uses that too: with her mouth free she can gasp out pleas and lewd comments every time Allison’s hand connects.

_The story goes that they come back different._

Allison remembers the first time Kate lied to her. She was ten years old and sitting on the end of her bed, trying not to cry after a fight with her best friend. And it can’t be right that this was the first time, by ten years old there must have been hundreds of lies before it, but this is the one Allison remembers. It was the sort of lie adults always tell children. Kate had found her there, hugging her knees and staring determinedly at the floor, blinking back tears. She’d sat down beside her, put an arm around her shoulder and asked what was wrong. Allison doesn’t remember what she said, has no idea what the fight was even about any more, but Kate had listened to her talk, offered sympathy and advice and promised everything would be okay. After Allison had talked herself out and was left looking miserably at her feet, Kate squeezed her shoulder.

“You’ll get through it, kiddo. You’re tougher than this. Maybe it doesn’t feel like it right now, but you are. And hey - I’ll always be here. Promise.”

Then she’d kissed Allison’s temple. Allison knew it was a lie even then, because it was one her parents told. She’d let herself believe it anyway, though - the sentiment, if not the reality.

 She keeps hitting Kate. The sound of skin on skin drowns out the buzzing in her ears.

Kate is still making obscene noises.

“Stop it,” Allison says. She can’t think like this, and she can’t _stop,_ and she feels so out of control.

Kate rocks back into her hand again. She moans as it connects.

“ _Stop it_.”

Allison’s crying. She doesn’t remember starting to cry, but it feels like she might have been doing it for a while. She hits Kate again, as hard as she can, putting all of her anger and betrayal and loss into it. Then she brings both hands to her face and sobs.

Kate slides off her lap. Allison’s only distantly aware of her now, though. Maybe she’s pulling up her jeans; Allison’s not sure. She should pull herself together and get up, she knows. This isn’t safe. She should reach for a weapon.

“Hey,” Kate says, voice gentle.

Allison feels the cushions sinking beside her, and then Kate’s thigh is warm against her own.

“Hey,” she repeats. “It’s okay.”

She wraps her arms around Allison, pulling her against her chest. Allison tenses and then gives up. She buries her face in her aunt’s shoulder. Kate strokes her hair and lets her cry.

“Get away from me,” Allison sobs.

Kate lets go of her, but Allison clings to her shirt, refusing to pull back. After a moment, Kate puts her arms around her again. She presses a kiss to Allison’s temple.

“It’s not,” Allison starts, but she can’t get the words out. She clenches her eyes shut and takes a deep breath, forcing herself to stop crying.

“It’s not okay,” she says. 

Kate is silent for a long minute.

“No,” she agrees. “I guess it isn’t.”

But she doesn’t let go.

 

*

 

The story goes that they come back different, but the truth is simpler, and far more painful.

 They come back exactly as they were.


End file.
